


for the longest time

by judlane



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abusive Grisha Yeager, Alternate Universe - High School, Anger Management, Anxiety, Boss/Employee Relationship, Bullying, Domestic Violence, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Fighting, Illiterate Eren Yeager, M/M, Nonbinary Hange Zoë, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, a lot of it lmao, anger issues, cursing, not really illiterate but he has serious issues when it comes to reading/writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:40:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9115375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judlane/pseuds/judlane
Summary: Eren Jaeger is a tough kid from an even tougher home. He shows up to school with bloodied lips and black eyes more often than not, but mostly keeps to himself.Levi is the owner of the town's only bar who can't seem to keep his dishwashers for more than a week.Or, in which Eren manages to land the job as a dishwasher at a small bar named Recon and ends up throwing Levi for a loop on what it means for two broken people to find comfort in each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First off, please let me know if there are any spelling/grammar mistakes.  
> Second, Eren isn't completely illiterate, he has some basic knowledge, but that's pretty much it. He reads really slow and tends to not really comprehend what he reads, and also has no clue how to spell anything besides his own name.  
> Third, this chapter is more of an introduction of some sorts.. like background information. The other chapters are no doubt going to be longer and much more dialogue centered and such!

My breath curled shapeless in the crisp winter air. The cold was an uncomfortable pinch on my fingers as turned the cigarette over and over. Smoke wisped from the lit end, mixing with my breaths.

My face still stung, both with the cold and newly forming bruises, so I ducked into my jacket, warming my lips against the rough material. They were chapped and swollen, one side still bloody from either a fist or my teeth. The sky was darkening, illuminating the naked trees with a rusty orange. I would have to head home soon, before it got too dark. My stomach was a heavy weight, pulling at my lungs and closing my throat. I debated sleeping here, going back in the early morning to shower and change, and then go to school. It wasn’t like I hadn’t done it before.

This was my safe place. An abandoned, half finished drainage system in the middle of the woods, grown over with underbrush and graffiti. It was barely the size of a school bus, concrete walls cracked and marred from years of abandonment set deep into the earth, yielding some shelter from the cold wind. I sat on the edge, dangling my legs over, and brought the cigarette to my lips. The smoke burned comfortably down my throat and my lungs. It set my shaking fingers still and dulled the swelling pain of my face some.

I didn’t know what I had said or done, but really, he didn’t need an exact reason. Closed the front door a little too loudly, room little too messy, spoke a little too softly. Anything could be a trigger, and he’d be on me like a dog sick with rabies. I had tried everything to keep my dad at bay, some days sneaking around so he wouldn’t spot me, cleaning the house spotless before he got home. But there was always something a little too much, no matter how small I tried to make myself.

I took another long drag and watched the trees burn into dark shadows, illuminated only by the silver of the moon. Feeling resignation to my bones, I tossed away the butt and stood up. Teetering on the edge of the wall, I cat walked across onto the dry ground, leaves crunching. I slung my tattered bag over my shoulders, side aching from a well-place stomp a few hours before.

The cold grew as I walked, nipping at my ears and irritating my lips. I had to shove my hands deep into my pockets to keep from picking at them. By the time I was swinging my legs over the rusted chain link fence that separated my backyard from the woods, my face was starting to feel numb. I probably looked like a bruised tomato, and if the puffiness around my right eye told me anything, a tomato with an eye almost swollen closed.

The lights were still on in the small, squatting house with its grungy shutters and groaning screen door that didn’t fit quite right on its hinges. The steps leading up to the back door had long ago broke and sat scattered at the base of the door, some grown over with mold and nails glinting like hidden gems. I expertly lunged over the mess and used my other foot to kick open the door, fingers too numb to be of much help. The doorknob had shattered, probably around the same time the steps had given in, and now the only thing that kept the door closing was how snugly it fit in its frame. But the eroding wood around the edges would give way as well soon. I wondered which one of us would go first.

I closed the door behind me as I had opened it, and sighed at the warmth of the house. I shrugged out of my jacket, making sure to check for my pack of cigarettes, before walking down the hallway.

Dirt smudges lined the base of the wall, blending in with the dirty carpet that spread throughout the entire house. Once, when my mom was still around, she had implemented a rule religiously: take off your shoes once you come inside. That had stopped the day she left.

I didn’t bother to check for where my dad was, sprawled out in his sagging armchair with a case of beer and the remote within an arm’s reach. He was probably knocked out by now, would wake up around one, and then fall into his bed. It was the same routine every day. I pushed open my bedroom with my shoulder, closed it with my foot, and collapsed onto the rigid mattress that squatted in the middle of my room. I don’t know what happened to the bed frame. I had came home one day to it missing and my dad suddenly a hundred bucks richer. So I settled with balancing it on old textbooks and using a storage box as a bedside table.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

The lumpy mattress did nothing to soothe my aching side and throbbing face. I let out a low groan as I bent my knees up to my chest and peeled off my socks and shoes. I didn’t bother turning on the light as I shucked off my shirt and jeans as well, tossing them to the designated dirty pile corner of my room. I would have to run to the laundromat after school if I wanted clean clothes at all this week.

Even in the dim light I could see the dark bruise forming across my ribs, just under my right arm. Gently as I could, I presed two fingers across the ribs it expanded over, hissing sharply between my teeth at the pressure. No broken bones. Good.

Rolling onto my undamaged side, I pulled the covers up to under my nose, curling myself in a stiff ball. I could already feel the chill settling over the house, seeping through the thin walls and biting at my toes.

We used to have a heater, but just like everything else in this house, it broke. Just spluttered and died. Dad had cussed it out and slapped it around a few times, before returning his attention to the TV, beer bottle pressed to his lips.

It was lucky. It had already retired before dad had taken his anger out on it.

I couldn’t help the dreaded feeling that maybe I wouldn’t be so lucky. 

\---

 

School, at times, was worse than my dad.

There was Jean Kirschtein, a total dickwad of a dude who thought that kicking a ball around on a field somehow made him hot shit. He was a complete tool, dyed hair and all snarky grin that literally made me want to punch his lights out every time he opened his mouth. Sometimes, after the last bell, I did. Sometimes we would wrestle out in the school parking lot behind his giant fucking Tahoe with shining rims and grapple in pure frustration. I don’t know why exactly I hated him honestly, or why he hated me, but I just did. 

Maybe I hated him because he always had new shoes and soft sweaters and a big car and a full stomach. I hated him because he could read and could spell his ridiculously long last name. I hated him because he came to school with a black eye I had given him and people thought it was  _ cool _ and  _ fuckin’ nice shiner man _ , but when I showed up in a much more deteriorated state, all I got was  _ typical poor kid. _

And then there was the actual school part. I wasn’t a bad kid. I sat in class and listened to teachers and pretended to write shit down. Teachers seemed to like me and sometimes gave me errands to do.

It was just that nothing ever made any fucking sense.

I tried to pay attention. I tried to figure out equations and paragraphs of text and force them into some sensibility in my head, but when the only thing you can read fluently is your name, things prove to be difficult. It was like harboring a dark secret, something even more shameful than my dad using me for his own punching bag.  I’d much rather sport a black eye than have to read out loud.

Bullshitting my way through a class became a skill of mine ever since I hit middle school. Once I realized that no, no one else takes nearly ten minutes to read a paragraph or spell out a word, I took to strategically meeting the baseline of all expectations. I slapped my name on a paper and threw out some fucked answers and hoped for the best.

The red markings I’d receive on every assignment made no more sense to me than the criteria so I just prayed every year I would pass. And, despite fifth grade which I was forced to repeat due to my mom’s insistence that I just _ wasn’t ready _ , somehow, I did.

Maybe it was teachers taking pity on me after my mom passing, and then when I started showing up with split lips and swollen eyes.

I heard the whispers of “troubled child” and “unstable home” but no one ever sat me down and asked what was wrong, so I shut my mouth, sat in class, and promptly wasted my time away. The only thing that was pristine in my academic career was my attendance. While I never understood a single topic, it was much better to get a meal out of my fruitless efforts and not have the shit kicked out of me.

And so it was a routine. Every morning I would shower in lukewarm water, assess the damage from my dad, drink as much water as I could to lull the hunger until lunch, and walk to school. Some days I smoked a cigarette and some days I didn’t. Some days it hurt to put the stick between my lips and some days it hurt to flick the lighter. Some days I did it anyways despite the throbbing. Some days I ignored Jean and some days I cracked my fist against his mouth not unlike my dad. Some days I ignored him and went straight home and got slapped around there instead. Some days both things happened. Some days nothing happened at all.

Then one day, I broke that routine.

I don’t know what possessed me, maybe it was one too many hard knuckles or red markings, but I found myself stopping outside the small bar I always passed before and after school.

It was nothing special, especially for a small town like this one. It got good business, and was well kept it seemed like. It served breakfast in the morning, closed for lunch, and reopened later in the afternoon for its alcoholic patrons. The windows that ran along it were dark to the point anything behind it was indistinguishable except for the large HELP NEEDED sign plastered to the front door.

I was nearly eighteen years old without a job and a car and the ability to read or write. I could at least change one of those things.

I pushed on the door, only to flush and realize I had to pull, stepping inside.

It was simple, booths lining the walls and windows, tables neatly set up in the middle of the floor, a large wrap-around bar counter on the far back wall with shelves of alcohol at its center. It was empty, the only sound being soft music playing over the speakers.

Slowly I made my way towards the back. Suddenly this didn’t seem like a good idea. I was underage to work as a bartender, had shit people skills to be a waiter, plus I couldn’t fucking spell worth my life or even read the damn menu. What the fuck was I thinking? How the hell was I supposed to fill out an application? This wasn’t like school. I couldn’t slap my name down and hope for the best.

My internal mantra and backpedaling was interrupted by a woman practically swinging through a back door.

She was tall, with chestnut hair tied up in a ponytail and glasses perched on her hooked nose. She was solidly built, not soft curves like my mom, but all wide shoulders and long legs. She was holding a tub of what looked like dishes with a folder clamped firmly between her teeth.

She skidded to a halt when she caught sight of me.

I felt my face flush and heart plummet to my knees. I should have noticed they weren’t open. That would explain the lack of customers and the dim lights and the surprised arch of her eyebrows. Fuck, I had already screwed myself over within the first thirty seconds of trying to change my life. If I had been able to read, I would know when to come by and make a better impression and ask for a job. Just fuck.

What I wasn’t expecting, however, was her to solidly drop the tub on the bar counter and place the folder between her teeth down, not unlike a dog dropping a bone.

“Hello there! Is there anything I can help you with?”

It took a moment for me to pull  my tongue from the roof of my mouth.

“I-uh, I’m looking for a job.”  _ Fuck.   _ “No, I mean, I’m wondering if I could get hired.”  _ Double fuck. _

The woman blinked at me, eyes owlishly big behind her glasses, before throwing her head back and laughing. It was one of those laughs that someone threw their whole body into and filled up the room. I tried not to flinch.

“First time applying for a job?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak anymore.

“Well, here, have a seat. I’m guessing the hiring sign brought you in here, right?”

I nodded again. The leather stool creaked beneath me as I sat down. My side pulsed dully in discomfort.

“Well, I’m Hanji Zoe, co-owner for this little place!” She plopped herself down in the stool next to me, rotating herself side to side, legs dangling. “I’m surprised, honestly, I just put that sign up! Our dishwasher quit this morning unexpectedly, so we’re kind of floundering at the moment.”

Dishwasher. I could do that. I didn’t have to read or write or talk. I just washed dishes. Dishes didn’t lash out or point out your errors with red ink. I could do that.

“I can do it.” Hanji raised her eyebrows higher at my earnest response. I pushed the flush that crept around the back of my neck down.

“I mean- dishwasher. I can do that. I’m really strong and I can work any hours. Well- actually, I have school, but I can work anytime around that and- weekends anytime. Yeah, anytime.”

Hanji’s smile was calming.

“Wonderful! Just what we need. Now, just wondering, what’s your name by the way?”

I hadn’t even given her my fucking name before I made a fool of myself.

“Eren Jaeger.”

“Oh! What a lovely German name!” Hanji reached back and slid the folder towards herself, pulling out a sheet of paper. I felt my stomach drop at the small black text that adorned the front.

“Now,  _ Mr. Jaeger _ -” she donned a terrible, thick German accent for my name before continuing “-I’m just going to need your phone number so I can give you your schedule and when to come in.”

“Actually I, uh, I don’t have a phone.”

“Well then, come in tomorrow, same time as you did today, and I’ll give it to you, okay?” She said without missing a beat.

I nodded my head so hard I was surprised I didn’t topple off the stool.

She clapped her hands once, twice, before standing up with a flourish. “Cool! And you’ll also be able to meet the other owner, so make sure you wipe your shoes off at the front door when you come in. He’s picky about that kind of stuff.”

I stood up as well and smiled and ducked my head because, fuck, I don’t know how to say goodbye to someone when I found myself skidding to a halt as I turned away.

“Wait.”

Hanji paused with the folder halfway to her mouth.

“I’m - I got the job?”

“You got the job.” She confirmed, teeth white and eyes crinkling.

Something warm budded in my chest and seeped down to the soles of my feet and I felt my lip aching sharply as I grinned. How long had it been since I smiled this big?

“Thank you,” I managed to say, voice rough and trembling with the swell of emotion I couldn’t convey.

I had barely managed to make it to the exit before Hanji piped up behind me.

“Oh, and Eren? Could you please pull down that hiring sign?”

 

\---

 

That night I dodged my dad and curled up on my lumpy mattress, trying to smother my smile into my pillow. 

_ You got the job. You got the job. _

For once, my fingers didn’t ache for a cigarette. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if there are any spelling/grammar mistakes.  
> There will be more discussion when it comes to Hanji but that comes later!  
> Also, yes, Eren's illiteracy is a point in the story that gets addressed.

“Watch where you’re going, _Jaeger_.”

 _Count to ten and back_ , I instructed myself sternly as I stooped down to pick up my scattered textbooks. _He’s not worth it._

Out of all the days for Jean Kirschtein to be a total fucktard, he chose the one where I was practically vibrating with anxious nerves. I couldn’t even eat lunch, stomach too much of a roiling mess to hold anything solid down.

The other boy was seeking me out like it was his day’s mission. Shoving me hard against my locker, ripping the pencil out of my hand and tossing it over his shoulder as he passed in class, sneering at me across the hallway with his little band of merry fuckers all dressed in soccer shirts. It was like he was wanting me to punch that ugly smirk off his face after school.

But I couldn’t. God, did I want to, but not today.

Today, I had a job interview.

Well, technically, it was more or less going to be my first day, just two days after I had first stepped inside the bar but still.

After I had gone back yesterday, making sure to practically beat the dirt off my shoes before I took a step inside, Hanji had wrapped me in a rough hug and shoved a white sheet of paper in my hands.

“It has all the other workers’ names and what time they work every two weeks! And here, on the back, you can find their numbers in case you need a shift covered or switched!” She had said, energetically pointing out my own name before dragging it along to explain that I worked almost every single afternoon after school and on Saturday, with Sundays off.

“Don’t worry too much though, it’s illegal to keep kids late, so you’ll probably be going home before ten!”

I had barely been able to thank her before she was whisking off again, throwing her goodbye over her shoulder as she tended to something behind the bar.

Even when my dad caught me hard across the jaw last night he couldn't knock the smile off my face. I had a job. I could save up my money, keep it somewhere hidden in my room, and hopefully buy a car or apartment some day. Once I got out of school, I would have more time for more hours and possibly even for a second job.

It finally felt like something was going right for once.

And Jean Kirschtein was really trying to fuck that up for me.

I shoved the books that he had knocked from grasp into my locker, letting the metal door receive my frustration as I slammed it closed. I could practically feel Jean’s eyes on me, begging for some type of reaction. Any other day I would’ve given it to him too. I would’ve walked right up to him and his little posse, snarled in his face and then we would’ve met at his Tahoe. Thrown a few punches and kicks and then it’d start over again the next day.

 _But not today_ , I reminded myself. _Let that punk try all he wants, he’s not getting shit from you._

I slung my bag over my shoulders as I strode pass Jean to the bathrooms, stripping my shirt off once I was safely tucked away in a stall. I quickly changed before Jean had the right mind to find me and try to start shit or annoy me anymore. I probably wouldn’t be able to keep a level head if that fucker tried to corner me.

When I reemerged into the hallway, Jean was gone and so was his friends. There were just a few other students talking to each other as they put their stuff away in their lockers. A sudden roll of nerves bubbled in the back of my throat and I pressed the back of my hand against my mouth. In thirty minutes I was going to start my first job.

Not even the throbbing of my jaw could put a damper on my spirits as I started out of the school and in the direction of the bar.

\---

  
I pulled hard on my sweatshirt for the fourth time as I waited at an empty booth for Hanji. It was the nicest one I had. It was a soft cream color, free from any scuff marks or the prominent tobacco scent that clung to all of my clothes. And combined with the dark jeans I wore nearly every day, I’d say I was decent looking. Maybe not five star restaurant quality, but for the position as a dishwasher at a bar? Not too shabby.  
  
My hands were beginning to get clammy so I quickly wiped them against my jeans and looked around.

What if Hanji wasn’t here? What if Hanji had forgotten about me? What if the other owner didn’t even like me and took one look at my cream colored sweatshirt and fucking excommunicated me or something?

I pushed my hands underneath my thighs when I found myself picking at the irritated sides of my thumbs. I used to pick at my lip but managed to break that habit only to move onto my hands. They were always in a state of either bruised or chapped. When I was younger my mom used to rub cream over the cracked skin and press kisses in-between my knuckles.

“Mr. Jaeger!” I snapped my head up to see Hanji waving earnestly.

Scrambling slightly I lurched to my feet, wincing as the table screeched with my sudden movement. My ears burned as I righted it.

Hanji laughed her belly-deep laugh and clapped me hard in the shoulder. “See, Levi, isn’t he just adorable? All puppy clumsiness and first job excitement!”

It was only when she acknowledged him that I realized there was a man standing behind Hanji. He was short (like, actually short), but had a sturdy build, all strong arms and squared shoulders. He was pale, with his black hair styled in a clean undercut. He regarded me with a scowl.

“Did you wipe your shoes off before you waltzed in here and decided to rearrange my furniture?”

I took a moment to realize he was talking to me. His voice was deep and devoid of any emotion despite his biting words.

“I- uh, yes sir, I did.”

“Are you lying to me?”

Hot fear curled in my stomach and pushed up against my lungs. _Are you lying to me?_

“No sir!” And I wasn’t. I had scrubbed my shoes last night with a rag until you almost couldn’t tell they were barely being held together by hot glue.

The man, Levi, as Hanji had called him, stared hard down at my shoes then up to meet my eyes. There were rings that glittered on his fingers as he crossed his arms over his chest. I caught a glimpse of black ink as his long sleeves shifted. He was wearing a black simple shirt and pressed black pants. It was like being under military inspection. Hanji, maybe because she was excited or simply wanted to break the stifling atmosphere, threw her arm around my shoulders and patted my cheek.

“Sorry about him, he’s a little rough around the edges,” she whispered into my ear. “You’re going to be our fourth dishwasher within a month, so he’s probably sick of going through the same thing over and over again.”

Fourth dishwasher in a month? Jesus Christ. I needed a cigarette.

Levi didn’t appear to hear Hanji or maybe was just ignoring her as he turned away and gestured for us to follow him, not bothering to wait as he pushed through the back door and disappeared.

Hanji kept an arm around me as we walked. She was chatting about something (did I hear something about regenerative properties of starfish?) as we trailed after Levi. The back door had some white blocky letters that labeled it as something, but we were going through it too fast for me to pause and make sense of what it read.

A kitchen lay beyond it, stainless counters and tables and hanging pots and pans. Everything seemed to practically shine under the fluorescent lights, even the tiles seemed to be free of any blemish as we walked. There didn’t seem to be anybody else but us here at the moment, something I couldn’t help but be grateful for. I didn’t want anyone else to see my fumbling and flushing and fucking up.

The kitchen tapered off to a small, narrow hallway lined with floor to ceiling shelves full of plates and glasses and other miscellaneous kitchenware. Hanji had to release my shoulder so she could be a step behind me, but never missed a beat in her one-sided conversation. Levi was at the end of the hallway, arms crossed and face still stern.

It was a small room, practically cramped with the dishwashing station and a small door that appeared to lead outside to the back. There were three large basin sinks, all filled to the brim with dishes, and then a small machine with a pull down mechanism and then a stainless steel counter.

“This is where I expect you to be throughout the entirety of your shift. If you want to take a ten minute break, fine, notify someone before you step out. I don’t want to see you hanging around in the kitchen or out by the bar. I’m paying you to wash dishes, not run your mouth and make friends. Am I clear?”

I nodded.

Levi turned to the dishwashing station.

“So this is how it goes. Dirty dishes will be placed to the left of you on this counter, left sink filled with washing soap, middle sink for scrubbing shit off, and right sink for sanitizing. Grab a tray, put the dishes you just washed on it, run it through the machine, and then, whoopty-fuckin’-doo you’re a certified dishwasher. Leave them to air dry for a few minutes and then put them in their _correct_ place in the hallway. I assume you know how to see and know what should go with what.”

Levi’s stare was cold and searching. “You think you can handle that?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then get to it. I expect these dishes to be cleaned before the dinner rush hour,” Levi said as he pushed past me and Hanji, not even tossing back a goodbye before he disappeared down the hallway.

I hurriedly pulled off my sweatshirt and went to stuff it in my bag. Hanji’s hands were a warm weight on my elbow before I could pull the zipper open.

“I’ll take that and put it up in Levi’s office so it doesn’t get ruined. Have fun washing some dishes!” Hanji said as she pulled my bag from my grasp and followed after Levi with a jaunty wave and encouraging smile.

I took a deep breath and got to work.

Washing dishes, in all actuality, wasn’t hard at all. It was boring somewhat to do the same motions over and over again, and my legs started to go numb after the second hour, but it felt good to be actually doing something for once. I quickly learned what dishes went were and that if you sprayed too hard on a bowl the water literally shot straight back at you with a vengeance. By hour three my shirt was sopping wet and I no doubt smelled like wet food, but I couldn’t find myself to really care.

I managed to get all the dishes that had crowded the sinks done and put up before what I was guessing was the rush hour. More and more glasses started to find their way back to me, some still half full of beer or vodka or whatever. I took my time cleaning those, too scared that I was going to be too rough with the clear glass and end up shattering something on my first day.

By hour six I felt like my arms were jello and my hands prunes. The water made my chapped hands sting like a bitch and I groaned every time I had plunge my hand in the hot water to go after a dish. I was sure that tomorrow they were going to be swollen and aching but it would be worth it. All of this would be worth it the moment I got a car or got an apartment. Anything that could remove me from my dad.

No one came back and talked to me, not Levi or Hanji, although somehow dishes kept appearing behind me and I could see movement at the end of the hall in the kitchen. I wanted to call out that I was going to take a ten minute break, either to smoke or just sit down for a few moments, but I never found my courage.

“You’re done for the day.”

I nearly dropped the glass mug I was rinsing off but managed to catch it before it shattered at the bottom of the basin.

Levi was standing behind me, looking just as untouched as before. His grey eyes seemed to zero in on the mess on the front of my shirt before flicking up to my face. A muscle in his square jaw twitched.

“But I’m not-” I swung my head to look at the single tub still full of dishes that needed to be washed.

“It’s nine. It’s illegal to have a high-schooler stay any later. Get a move on.”

I hurriedly wiped my soggy hands on my wet shirt and ducked around Levi, flushing when I saw him lean away from me as I passed.

There was no one in the kitchen when I passed through, but once I reached the front I could see Hanji wiping down the bar. Only a few people were seated, some drinking others not. I wondered how many people’s glasses I had washed tonight.

“All done back there?”

“Oh uh- yes ma’am,” I replied, self-consciously pulling my shirt away from my body.

Hanji’s rag paused on the counter and for once, I saw her frown down at it. The look she gave me when she straightened up was surprisingly firm.

“I don’t go by female pronouns. I use nonbinary ones, Eren.”

I had no clue what she was talking about but her frown told me I had fucked up. And after everything was going so well, I had fucked up.

“I’m sorry,” I spluttered automatically. “I-”

Hanji waved a rag around in the air dismissively.

“Eren, Eren it’s fine. Instead of _she_ or _her_ , it’s _they_ or _them_ , okay?” Hanji said, something glinting behind her- no _their_ \- glasses I couldn’t quite catch.

I nodded dumbly and felt another apology on the tip of my tongue but I kept it down. I didn’t want to make anything worse than I already had.

“Hey, brat.”

My shoulders hiked up around my ears as I turned to see Levi holding my ratty bag.

“Don’t leave your shit laying around and especially don’t forget it with me,” he grunted.

There was something about Levi that made it difficult for me to talk to him. His cold eyes and indifferent expressions made me want to curl up on myself. I barely managed to catch the bag as he tossed it to me and I kept my gaze focused on his shiny black shoes.

“Uh- thank you sir.”

“Hm,” was all he said before turning away.

I said my quick (and somewhat awkward) goodbyes to Hanji and then made my way home. It was only a fifteen minute walk down dimly lit streets and shuttered houses, but it felt like an eternity with my legs aching and hands stinging in the cold. I lit a cigarette just to keep my teeth from chattering.

My house was a small, squatting thing that sat all by its lonesome. It was a decently sized one floor, with the privacy of woods and a long dirt driveway and unlit wraparound porch. When I had been younger the white paint shone in the summer sun and the floor creaked in just the right way, like the house was talking back. Now the shutters hung just barely to their windows and the paint was streaked with grime.

 _“Remember, Eren, a house reflects your life. You have to treat it like something you love,”_ my mom had told me late at night out on the porch while the fireflies glinted in the woods.

She was probably rolling in her grave right now.

I stamped out my cigarette before I pulled the front door open, eyes glued to the dirty carpet as I practically slid into the living room. The television emitted a eerie blue glow.

“Where have you been?” My dad’s voice was gruff, like the mop that was his hair and beard. He used to be a decorated doctor and researcher, but that went down the drain the moment my mom stopped breathing. Now he sold his kid’s bed frame for extra cash and sometimes got gigs painting houses and cutting yards.

I pressed my back hard against the front door, willing my legs not to shake.

“I got a job,” I said.

His bloodshot eyes stared hard at me.

“Where at?”

“It’s just fifteen minutes from here - just some little restaurant. I’m a dishwasher.”

“You planning on coming home this late every night?”

The white sheet stuffed into the depths of my bookbag was like a hot iron against my back. “Yes sir.”

Slowly, almost like it pained him, my dad stood up. He was a tall man, taller than me, with long arms and legs and thick knuckles and wide feet.

“You lying to me, boy?”

_Are you lying to me?_

“No sir-”

Hard knuckles cracked against my cheekbone, snapping my head to the side. I immediately ducked, hands thrown up and body collapsing in on itself as my dad wrapped another hand around the back of my neck and throttled me.

He ripped the hands from my face so he could get another solid punch in, this one glancing off my eye before he let me drop to the floor completely. The only sound in the room was his heavy breathing and the infomercial running in the background.

And just like that it was over. He went back to his damn chair and his damn beers and his damn remote. I would pick myself up, shower off, smoke a cigarette, and go to sleep thinking about the homework I was incapable of doing and how swollen my eye was going to be in the morning.

Some days I wanted to fight back, see how he would like it, but I didn’t. Some days I just wanted to book it, throw everything in a bag and see how far I could get away.

But I didn’t.

\---

Two weeks flew by. I worked every shift and even was asked to come in early on Saturday to do some extra cleaning. Levi had barely spared me a glance before he disappeared and Hanji talked my ears off the entire time.

Two weeks and I didn’t fight with Jean and I could feel his anger boiling on the back of my neck every day, but I found myself caring less and less.

I got paid on Friday, a hefty envelope full of cash and a rundown of my hours that I couldn’t make sense of anyways, but something about Levi, despite his all black clothing and thick rings and blank expression, screamed honesty (even though I was, according Hanji, an “under the table” worker). I buried the envelope deep within my bookbag, hands shaking with excitement.

I could do whatever I wanted. I could walk to any store and buy whatever the hell I wanted. It was my money.

But of course, everything just had to go to shit.

I knew Jean wasn’t going to hold off for long, and that breaking point came in a hard hand wrapping around the back of my neck as I cut through the parking lot.

“Think you’re better than me or something, _Jaeger_?” The way he said my name was like the gravel underneath our shoes. I wanted to break his nose for it.

I shoved him hard, off of me. He didn’t stumble very far and got right back up in my face.

“Think you’re some - some piece of hot shit because all of the sudden you, what, got right with fucking God or something?” His hands curled angrily at my collar and I gripped his wrists.

“Why don’t you _get the hell off of me_ ,” I snarled. I could feel my temper rising and fast.

He shook me once, hard. “Why don’t you make me?”

I felt the crunch of his nose against my knuckles, and then I was on the ground. He was wailing on my sides but it was nothing. Compared to my dad, this was nothing.

Somehow I managed to kick myself out from underneath him, blood dribbling down my chin from either my nose or my mouth, and roll myself on top. His nose was a mess and he had gravel burn on his cheek and this fight should have stopped by now, this should be over-

I didn’t stop.

I felt my hands go numb as I slammed my fists repeatedly over across his face, his ribs, his chest, his arms. I wanted to hurt him so bad. Red was veiling over my eyesight and all I could hear was my thundering heartbeat. I wanted to make him hurt for all those times he made me feel like shit-

Somebody grabbed me by the back of my collar and hauled me away. Distantly, I realized that some kids had intervened, some giant fucker with blonde hair holding me back and a tall boy kneeling down over Jean. I struggled, but once I realized his arm was bigger than my head, I stilled.

“Is he alright?” The boy holding me back asked, his voice a deep baritone.

Slowly, the tall boy began to sit a bloody and disheveled Jean up. The glare he shot me was considerably much less threatening with an eye swollen close and nose gushing blood.

“Yeah I’m - _fuck_ \- alright. Thanks Bertholdt.”

Bertholdt, who hovered over Jean with a very obvious sheen of sweat across his forehead, just wrung his hands and flicked a worried gaze between the two of us.

The boy holding me back dropped his arm and took a step back to regard me. I wondered what I looked like. Some poor kid with hot glued shoes throwing it out with Jean Kirschtein in the parking lot after school. What a party story.

“Reiner,” was all he said as he produced a hand. Shaking it hurt like shit, but I didn’t want to seem rude.

“Eren Jaeger.”

“Those were some mean hooks you were throwing,” Reiner said, gaze calculated. “You should come train with me some time. I box at my dad’s gym.”

I wasn’t expecting that at all. And judging by the betrayed look on Jean’s face, he wasn’t either.

“Oh, uh, yeah, maybe I will. Thanks.”

Reiner nodded and shuffled over to Jean.

“Just in case you didn’t notice or something, but your nose is broken.”

I watched, hot pain beginning to wash over my knuckles and face, as Reiner helped Jean to his feet and supported him to his car, all the while chuckling over Jean’s grumbles. Bertholdt lifted an awkward hand and hurried after them.

What the fuck had just happened?

\---

Instead of heading straight to the dishes like I usually did, I went out back and smoked three cigarettes. My hands were shaking and my face hurt and I just wanted to sleep for a little bit. An incoming headache was starting to collect at the back of my skull. Six hours down until I could go home. For once, I wish I was on my lumpy mattress and not at work.

The back door swinging open caught my attention.

Levi strode out, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. His grey eyes zeroed in on my busted knuckles and bruised face.

“I’m hoping you’re not wanting workman’s comp for that,” he said.

Was that a fucking joke?

A dry laugh escaped my lips.

“If you think these are bad, you should see me after I clean some pots and pans. They always put up a good fight.”

“Hmm,” was all Levi said, eyes still roaming over my injuries.

I sucked hard at my cigarette, just to do something with my hands.

“Come back in when you’re done. Hanji will fix you up and give you some waterproof gloves for tonight. If you break anything, it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

Just like that he was gone.

I exhaled slowly, watching the smoke cling a little too long in the cold air.

Today’s shift was going to suck.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is really short and choppy. I started classes up this week and honestly, with my new schedule, I won't have much time to update, so I decided to go ahead and post this. If there are any mistakes, please let me know. Enjoy and thank you for reading!

“Given anymore thought about showing me that hook of yours in the ring?” Reiner asked, his bulky figure dwarfing the desk behind me. Apparently he used to sit three rows across the room but had switch seats. I didn’t even know we shared any classes together.

“I don’t really have any money to spare,” I replied. Boxing lessons would be nice, but compared to the prospect of a car or an apartment it was lower on my list of necessities.

Reiner nodded, and I couldn’t help but notice his eyes flicking down to my shoes. I quickly tucked them under the desk.

“How about this then - every time you come in for a lesson, your payment is cleaning up after hours. If you need a ride, you can call me or Bert.”

“I don’t have a phone.”

His smile was crooked and made him look like an oversized puppy. “Just humor me a little, Eren.”

“That’s not hard to do.”

Fuck Jean Kirschtein.

He plopped himself in the desk next to me, long legs sprawled out in the aisle. He had a shit eating grin on his face despite the scabs and mottled bruises.

Reiner raised his eyebrows. “Last time I checked Eren had you greeting the gravel of the parking lot face first.”

Jean slinked lower in his seat, face suddenly moody. “Yeah, well-”

The tardy bell interrupted him and he shot me a glare. Reiner’s laugh was deep and warm. I couldn’t help but feel a little warm behind my ears as I turned to face the front.

_He stood up for me._

\--

Work was as it always was. I greeted Hanji and made my way through the kitchen, nodding to one of the cooks I had managed to meet. His name was Mike, but he barely spoke so there wasn’t much to dawdle on before I got started on dishes.

Halfway through my shift, Hanji poked their head around the corner and regarded me with a solemn stare. “Levi’s in a bad mood. Avoid at all cost. Clean everything twice or suffer the consequences.” And then they were gone and I was left dowsing the front of my shirt with the nozzle in surprise. 

I had rolled my eyes and snorted. They really are dramatic sometimes.

I was going to eat those words.

\---

“Now, tell me, Eren, do you think this is clean?” Levi gestured to the dishes behind him.

It was ten minutes until closing. I could see Mike out of the corner of my eye meticulously scrubbing at a corner that he’d been working at for a few minutes now.

My throat felt tight. “Yes sir.”

The look he gave me was cold.

“The correct answer is no. Wash every dish again.”

I waited until he disappeared down the narrow hallway to press my fingers to the shadows under my eyes and let out a shaky breath.

My dad was going to kill me.

\--

It was bordering one in the morning by the time I placed the last dish on the shelf. My back was screaming in pain and my hands were irritated to a bright red from the hot water. The music had long been cut off from above and the lights in the kitchen dimmed to just the emergency fluorescents.

I limped my way through the kitchen and out to the bar. My heart stuttered in my chest when I saw Levi sitting at the counter, nursing a clear glass filled with dark liquid. I couldn’t make myself meet his gaze so I stared at the rings glinting on his fingers.

“Took you fucking long enough.” He tossed back the glass and to my surprise, strode ahead of my to the exit with it still in hand. Of course he wouldn’t leave a dirty dish out. He was probably going to bring it home and let it sanitize overnight or some shit.

I curled my shoulders inwards against the biting cold. I shoved my hands deep into my jeans and winced as the rough material grated on my hands. I had to swallow twice before I found my voice.

“Sorry about - about before. I’ll clean them better next time.”

Levi locked the door quickly before turning to me, expressionless. The glass in his hands seemed to glow in the dim light provided by the street lights.

My chest ached either from the cold or for a cigarette. Maybe both. My hands really fucking hurt. My back felt like I had pulled every single muscle twice and my legs had long gone past being numb. I just wanted to shower off and pass out in my bed.

Suddenly I felt like an idiot standing there while I watched Levi regard me. He didn’t fucking care. I was a dishwasher that had managed to stay, what, a month longer than any other hire he had that wasn’t his friend or something. He spoke in length to Hanji and Mike but barely spared me a glance at times.

 _Why are you getting so worked up?_ A voice whispered in the back of my mind. _He’s just your boss. He doesn’t owe you anything._

I grounded my teeth until I felt my jaw pop.

“Goodnight,” I said, hoping that Levi would ignore the bite in my words.

I turned on my heel and strode away, ears stinging from the night wind. I had barely managed to take four steps before Levi called out.

“Get your ass back here, brat. You’re too much of an idiot to be walking back to your house at this hour.” An engine revved to life.

I faltered for a moment. My dad would be asleep by now and it _did_ sound nice to be driven home.

I slowly turned back to see Levi seated in his car, a black sleek thing that seemed much more dangerous with the man inside.

Sighing loudly, I walked to the car and tossed myself inside, nearly moaning with the relief of sitting down. Levi shot my clothes a disgusted look before cranking up the heat.

The car hummed as Levi pulled away from the bar and onto the dark road. No music was playing and the only thing that was filling the expanse of silence between us was the glass cup rattling in its cupholder.

I couldn’t bring myself to start up any conversation to ask Levi how he knew what general direction to go, partly because I was too tired and partly because I knew I was going to get a smartass response. So instead I relaxed against the warming seat and imagined myself at the wheel instead.

“Turn here,” I whispered.

The car smoothly pulled into my driveway, headlights reflecting off the chipping paint of my house.

“Here’s fine,” I quickly said, undoing my seatbelt. Levi braked and I quickly hopped out of the car. Just before I shut the door I stuck my head back down to catch his eye. “Thank you for the ride.”

I couldn’t see Levi’s expression in the darkness but his voice was considerably less detached as he spoke. “Shut my damn door, it’s cold as hell out there.”

I quickly shut the door and jogged up the front steps. Headlights slid across the outside of the house as Levi turned around and began to head back towards the road.

I watched in wistful jealously as Levi’s tail lights slowly pulled down the muddy driveway, careful to navigate around potholes or sinking mud. It was such a nice car, with the slow slopes and sharp angles that screamed luxury and speed, of comfortable living and full stomachs at night.  
  
Levi was paused at the end of the driveway, right signal blinking as traffic passed him, when a hand clapped the back of my head. I could only manage a sharp gasp before I was dragged inside, shoulder bouncing harshly off the doorframe.  
  
My dad stood towering over me, one hand fisted in my collar and the other balled against the now-closed door. Anger made his wrinkles deeper, his dark eyes sharper and mouth an ugly line.  
  
“Who was that?” His gravelly voice made me shudder. Fear was a cold weight in the base of my stomach.  
  
I tried to find my voice, but he lost his patience, and shook me fiercely. He was like another being, unrelenting strength and wrath, hatred pumping his blood instead of a heart.  
  
“His name is Levi, he offered me a ride home. He’s my boss.” My voice was meek and unsteady in the focus of his anger. I had to swallow twice to keep the crack in my voice down.  
  
Not letting go of me, he drug me back to peer through the dusty blinds. To my confusion, Levi still sat in the driveway, but no other cars were passing by. His right blinker was off.  
  
Dad stared a moment more, shoulders wired with barely concealed rage. Slowly, I watched as Levi’s car crept on to the road, and turned away from our house. My dad was on me in an instant.  
  
I barely managed to drop to the ground to cover my head before the hitting began. His fists were heavy against me, like a pounding wave that got stronger each time it drew back. I always tried to not cry, but my face always came back wet.  
  
Pain laced down my side, and out of reflex, I tried to throw my hands over my hip where the throbbing was like a twisting knife, but then his hand went to my face. It was just two punches this time, a small blessing among a nightmare, but they left me dazed and blinking stars out of my eyes. The sound was like a hammer hitting wood.  
  
He loomed over me, chest heaving. Then he turned away and it was over. Agony rippled at my hip when I tried to sit up, but I had to, because if I didn’t, he’d be on me again once he got his breath back. I managed to pull myself into the hallway before the pain swelled up too much, and I had to sink to the ground. Agony pulsated down my leg and licked hotly at my face. I touched my brow and it came back dark with blood. I really needed a cigarette.  
  
Standing up was exhausting and taxing. All I wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep, even if it was on a dirty carpet floor and there was a hole in the plaster right beside my head. But I knew I would regret it the moment I felt those hands on me again.  
  
I collapsed on my bed and tried my best to ignore the digging springs and rough sheets. Instead, I shoved my hands into my pillowcase and pulled out the pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Without thinking twice, I pulled one out and lit it, dropping the rest onto my chest. If my dad smelt the smoke, he mustn’t have cared too much. I had finished half the pack before I fell asleep, just managing to stub a half-finished one against my thumb. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry this sucks lmao  
> the story is starting to pick up i promise but if i tried to keep writing this, i was going to delete it all and start over (and then it'd be another month before i updated smh)  
> please let me know if there's any mistakes!  
> thank you all for the kudos/comments!!

“You should quit smoking,” Levi said as he lifted a cigarette to his lips and inhaled.

I scoffed and scrubbed a hand over my face then winced when I pressed too hard on my bruises. They ached with my heartbeat and a budding migraine was worming its way into the base of my skull, but I ignored it. Just three more hours and I could go home. After school I had hurried home and shoved my blankets into a plastic bag and brought it to my hideaway in the woods. The night would be cold, but I had survived worse.

Avoiding my dad has easy enough in itself, but the thought of sharing the same living space was choking me up. The sound of his fist hitting my jaw had reverberated in my ears until I had woken up, sweating and heaving, and left for school two hours early.

I exhaled slow and pressed the withering butt of the cigarette into the gravel and flicked it into the trash. Levi watched me with unattached disinterest through the haze of curling smoke, eyes half-lidded and arms crossed.

I distracted myself from the bulging of his biceps by pulling out another cigarette and lighting up.

“You’re going to have lung cancer by the time you’re 20 if you keep that up,” Levi sighed on an exhale of smoke.

“Yeah,” I lamely replied.

Levi tilted his head to the side. “You get in fights a lot?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess so.”

“Kids at school?”

“Yeah.”

Levi made a sound of acknowledgment and started to lean his shoulder against the brick wall, thought better of it, and straightened up. The glow of the dim streetlight made his jaw sharper and shoulders broader. There was the faint teasing of stubble across his upper lip and chin. I pretended to scratch at my eye so he wouldn’t catch me staring when he turned back to me.

“You get that from the kids at school?”

I rolled the cigarette over and over in my fingers and thought about my answer. I didn’t have to look at him to know he was talking about the web-work of bruises across my cheek and swollen eye. It’d be easy, honestly, to say _no, my dad fucked me up_ , but I didn’t. Instead I rubbed my nose against the back of my hand and nodded.

Levi stamped his cigarette out under a thick black boot. The embers skittered and died in the gravel. He snapped his fingers twice to get my attention and his rings glinted like a lighter sparking.

“Come inside, my balls are going to be raisins if I sit out here any longer.”

I smiled, and headed inside after him, but not before I threw away both of our sticks in the trash. The inside of the resteraunt was much warmer than the night outside, and I rubbed my palms together to get some circulation going. The friction grated on my dry hands but the fingertips turning blue were a little more of a concern.

Levi led the way through the kitchen and into an adjacent, narrow hallway. He stopped in front of a simple door and unlocked it, shoving it open when it stuck in its frame. “Fuckin’ piece of shit,” he grumbled as he went around to his desk in the middle of the room.

I had never been in Levi’s office before, so I snooped discreetly before he turned back around. It really was just a plain office with a desk piled high with papers in the middle and two sitting chairs. No pictures or souvenirs. Just stacks and stacks of official looking forms.

Levi dug around in one of the drawers until he produced a small medical kit. He pointedly looked at one of the chairs and I slowly sank down into one.

He rummaged through it for a few moments before pulling out some pain medicine and tossing it to me. “Take two of those and don’t move.” He stepped around me and disappeared back into the hall. I did as I was told and popped two dry, before pulling out a few more to put in my pocket. My dad, despite once being a doctor, had long stopped buying anything that wasn’t beer or frozen food, so I was always in desperate need of something to take the edge off the bruises.

Levi returned with a frozen bag of peas wrapped in a dark blue rag and unceremoniously dropped it into my lap. I hissed at the sharp cold before pressing it to my eye. Levi leaned on the desk in front of me, arms crossed and face a blank slate.

It was strange to see someone do something nice with so little emotion. The school nurse, Mrs. Petra, had always fussed over my bruises with a motherly air, and when she grew suspicious of how frequently I came to her with black eyes and split lips, I stopped going altogether. I knew she asked about me to my teachers from their searching eyes, but I never stirred up trouble in the classroom so they never approached.

“You hurt anywhere else?” Levi asked.

“No sir,” I replied as I shifted the frozen peas. The throbbing was starting to dull.

“Quit with the sir. Makes me feel fuckin’ weird. If you’re not hurt anywhere else, how come you've been limping like some kind of lame horse?” His tone was light, but something swirled in his grey eyes I couldn’t translate.

I struggled to think of an excuse - that I played too rough with some friends or I had pulled something running, but the suspicion was already there. If I lied, it’d be obvious I was trying to cover something up.

“I - when I was fighting, one of the guy’s friends stomped on me.” It wasn’t the truth, but not necessarily a lie either.

“So you were jumped?”

“What? No, I always - I mean, it’s just something we do.” Fuck that sounded even worse.

Levi didn’t look convinced. I pressed on earnestly.

“It’s just me and a guy that don’t get along at school. Sometimes we just fight to.. fight,” I explained, wincing at how completely unrealistic I sounded. It was the truth. Just not in this situation. “It’s like an outlet or something. I went too far and one of his friends had to jump in to stop me.”

“And how often does this happen?”

“Every other day, I guess. Once a week. It’s been happening less and less since I’ve started working.”

Levi tilted his head to the side like a hunting dog that had caught a scent. “Then how come you show up nearly every day with a fucked up face?”

My heart bottomed out. I had dreamed of this moment a thousand times over, of someone picking apart my lies and laying the facts down the table, their voice when they said _this just doesn’t add up Eren, what’s really going on?_ I had hoped for it so many times, like an unattainable goal brushing the tips of my fingertips, but I didn’t have enough strength to curl my hand to get a good grip.

And here Levi was, staring hard at me with a stern set of his mouth, pulling at my fabricated lies and offering me frozen peas and rides home. I was terrified.

I had already given myself up as I floundered to find an excuse, and Levi slowly went around his desk to tear a piece of paper and scrawl something on it. I wanted to tell him the other secret too - it’d be easier to just get all out there, but the words burrowed their way into my chest and never came out. Levi handed me the strip of paper and I took it with a shaking hand.

“This is my address and personal cell. Are you going home tonight?”

“I… I don’t have anywhere else to go,” I whispered. I did, technically, but sleeping in the drainage pipe was more passing out for a few moments before shuddering awake again in wariness.

The unspoken invitation hung in the air between us. Levi sat in the leather seat on the other side of the desk. “The shop closes at 10. Be ready by then.”

I was empty as I nodded and left his office. A strange inflating ball of dread (or was it hope?) was pushing up against my heart and lungs, and I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep from losing my lunch.

_He knows. Levi knows._

\--  
Levi told me to wait by his car as he closed everything up so I did, hands buried deep in my threadbare jacket and collar upturned against the wind. Levi stepped out from the front entrance and locked the door, rattling it hard to check, and then turned to me.

“You know it’s unlocked,” Levi said as he slid into the driver’s side. I followed suit and buckled up as he started the engine and cranked up the heat.

“I know, I just felt weird… it’s your car.”

Levi pulled away and onto the dark road. He drove with one hand on top of the wheel and the other wrapped around the gearshift. “That is correct.”

I held up my cold fingers to the vents and rolled my eyes. I wondered if I should tell him about my stashed away blankets, but then thought better of it. If I mentioned I had to sleep out in the woods, the situation would worsen tenfold in Levi’s head. So instead I let myself relax against the leather and listen to the surprisingly soft music the radio played and pushed away the buzzing panic pressing just below my skin.

Levi, to my surprise, drove to a small, neat house nestled in a small neighborhood. Not too big, not too small with pristine bushes and freshly cut grass. I tried not to convey my surprise too much as I followed Levi inside.

“Take your shoes off. Actually, go take a shower and I’ll get you some clothes. You smell like shit,” Levi tossed over his shoulder as he walked ahead of me into the kitchen, flicking lights on as he went.

The house resembled his office in the sense that there were no pictures or paintings or really any material items besides the absolute necessities. The kitchen and the living room were connected, partially separated by a waist-high granite bar. There was a wrap-around couch and a decent-sized TV, but both looked like they were rarely used.

Levi opened the fridge and pulled out some juice. He pointed the carton towards a small narrow hallway just off of the living room. “Bathroom is first door on the left. I’ll leave the clothes outside.”

I nodded and locked myself in the bathroom, peeling off my grimy clothes and tossing them in a far corner. The bathroom was spotless and smelled like Clorox, and a far improvement to the shoddy one back at my house. Levi would probably have a stroke if ever saw it. I could imagine his look absolute disgust as he shoved cleaning supplies into my arms. The image brought made me grin. 

It took me a moment to figure out the dials in the shower, but once the heat cranked up, I stepped inside and groaned in relief. The water beat against my back and was actually hot, not the fluctuating lukewarm stream I was used to.

The idea of showering like this every night was a wistful one. To come home from a long day at work and scrub off with lemon-scented shampoo and then go to the kitchen to make some dinner. It was a fantasy that had long been dead since my mom passed, but the remnants of those memories were enough for me to cling to. She had always cupped my cheeks and pressed a nose into my hair and inhaled deep, then laughed and pinched my ears when I got embarrassed.

I stepped out of the shower and dried off with a grey, fluffy towel, avoiding my reflection in the fogged up mirror. With the towel wrapped snugly around my waist, I peeked out the door. There was a dark shirt folded on top of sweatpants right outside and my side twanged when I scooped them up. The material was soft against my skin and surprisingly fit, probably something I should keep to myself if I didn't want to piss Levi off.

Levi was sitting at the bar, head propped up with a fist and a glass in the other. He barely spared me a glance when I sat beside him.

“There’s another bedroom, but I turned it into my office, so you’ll have to sleep on the couch. You can watch TV but fuck if I know where the remote is or what channel is what. I’ve got some food, so if you’re hungry make what you want,” Levi said around the rim of his glass before taking a long sip. The liquid looked like apple juice but the way he drank suggested whiskey. “Make sure you clean your shit up after yourself.”

He stood up in one fluid motion, refilled his glass (it really was apple juice), and started down the hallway. I scrambled out of the chair earnestly to stop him before he go too far.

  
“Uh - Levi?”

He paused and half-turned to look back at me, one eyebrow raised.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. Goodnight.”

An emotion flitted across his face before it cooled to his default feature. “Goodnight.”

The sound of his bedroom softly closing sounded much more like a bomb detonating and I was left alone worrying the hem of my shirt wondering if I had royally fucked up somehow.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know if there are any mistakes!

It took me a few moments to realize where I am when I woke up.

Levi’s house. Right.

Slowly, slowly, I pushed myself upright and let the soft blanket pool at my waist. Sunlight was filtering weakly through the curtains, leaving the room in a soft morning glow. It was strange. The sun rose the same every morning but it felt like I was on an entirely different planet.

At home sunlight struggled past the shutters, and even then it was waning and shallow. Here it was like the sun was flooding every crevice and corner with light. I tried to not dwell on why that was. 

I waited a few moments and listened, but it seemed like Levi was either asleep or already gone. Most likely not the latter. The thought of Levi leaving someone alone in his house unattended didn’t seem like something he would do even if there wasn’t much to steal. Not that I would steal anything.

The floor was cold on my bare feet and I hissed as I shuffled into the kitchen. The clock above the oven read nine in the morning, so, yeah, definitely missing school. It would be fine though. I had hardly missed a day since my mom died so skipping for once wouldn’t hurt.

I hesitated on digging in Levi’s fridge, but then again, he did tell me I could make whatever I wanted to. So I pulled out a carton of eggs and some orange juice and then went on the hunt for some pans. After opening cupboards aimlessly, I finally found one and cranked on the stove.

The last time I had really cooked was with my mom. She was always cooking or bustling around in the kitchen, an apron tied around her waist and smile on her lips. It was routine to come home from school and post up fort at the kitchen table. She used to show me how to dice up vegetables and always let me peel the potatoes even if they came out uneven and spotty.

Shaking my head, I started on breakfast and pushed my mom to the farthest corner of my mind.

Staying at Levi’s was a good decision. It felt nice to sleep somewhere clean and safe. My back didn’t ache and my bruises didn’t throb as much. I wasn’t in any mood to go do some flips or something, but I felt better than I had in a long time. I couldn’t help but wonder if I should attest that to Levi’s couch or Levi himself.

“You better clean up after yourself.”

I let out a squawk and crushed an egg in my hand in surprise. Levi was sitting at the bar, head propped up on his fist as he regarded me. Instead of a button down, he was wearing a plain cream colored shirt and his fingers were bare. His hair was rumpled slightly and eyes half-lidded. There were the faint lines across his lower jaw from his sheets but other than that, Levi looked like he could have been awake for hours or minutes.

“I will,” I hurriedly consoled him as I poured the eggs into the pan and poked at them with a spatula. Levi’s gaze was a heavy weight on my back. “Do - would you like some?”

“Sure.”

Silence settled over the two of us as I piled the scrambled eggs onto plates I had fished out and then poured two glasses of the juice. When I turned back around to offer Levi his food, he was still staring at me, mouth turned down at the corners.

“Thanks,” was all he said. I narrowed my attention to sitting down on the barstool beside him to hide my spike of panic.

This was awkward. Fuck this was awkward. Should I thank him for letting me stay over? Should I bring up my bruises? Should I wait for him to bring them up? At least he didn’t seemed pissed about me cooking. But then again, Levi was practically a blank slate.

“You’re fidgeting.”

“Huh?” I said around a mouthful of eggs.

Levi’s eyes slid downwards and then back to my eyes. “I said, you’re fidgeting.”

“Uh, sorry?”

Levi let out a low breath. “Just let it out, idiot. Talk to your heart’s content. Least I could do is listen since you decided to cook me breakfast.”

The tips of my ears burned hotly as I flushed. “I wasn’t trying to - I didn’t cook breakfast for you to feel indebted to me.”

“And I didn’t ask you to stay the night so you could owe me either. Glad we’re on the same page. I’m giving you free reign to talk my ear off about your problems for the next, let’s say, seven minutes and then we’re going to go on about our day. Deal?”

I opened my mouth but no sound came out. Talk? About what? I couldn’t talk about my dad or Jean or anything. That was like fishing for attention. Look at me, little sad boy who gets beat up. Poor me.

“How old are you?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Levi raised an eyebrow. “Thirty-one.”

Oh shit. He’s old.

Levi shot me a piqued look and I realized I had said that out loud. Face hot, I focused on shoveling more eggs into my mouth so I didn’t dig myself a deeper hole. It took me a moment to chew and swallow.

“Is Hanji your best friend?”

“Do you always ask such stupid fucking questions?” Levi retorted.

Startled, I laughed. Levi glowered at me and started moving his eggs into little piles on his plate.

I chewed on one last bite and then turned to face Levi fully. His shoulders looked broader in the simple tee, more rounded than when he was in his nicer shirts. On his left wrist a simple bird with a broken wing donned the back of it, edges sharp and squared. There was more blank ink curling along high on his bicep, only a sliver peaking out from underneath the sleeve.

“What’s your other tattoo look like?”

Levi stilled. “Next question.”

“Are my eggs bad?”

“They taste like shit.”

“Maybe you should try some salt on them.”

“Does it look like I want to put salt on them?”

I nodded. “You’re right. Too much sodium is bad for old men.”

Levi shot me a dark look and I laughed again. I felt light, calm, relaxed. Almost giddy in a sense.

Levi started to press the flat end of his fork against his eggs and crushed them to his plate. It was a strangely childish action that had me grinning despite his aggravated looks.

Something told me I should stop being so forward, that he was older than me and that meant he could be like my dad. Say one wrong thing and get laid out on the floor. But Levi didn’t grab me by my collar or crack his knuckles across my cheek. He just rolled his eyes and pointedly handed me his dishes.

“I trust you know what to do with those considering it’s your job and all,” Levi quipped as I brought the dishes to the sink. Levi hadn’t eaten much and his glass was still half-full, but I kept my opinions to myself as I washed the eggs down the drain. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Levi eat. At work I would catch Hanji sneaking some snacks every now and then again, but never Levi. Maybe it was a work thing, setting an example, blah blah.

There was a lot I didn’t know about Levi.

“You’re off today,” Levi cut through my thoughts. I tried not to fumble too much with the plates.

“And Sunday,” I added just to fill the still air.

Levi nodded slowly and ran a hand through his dark. I sneaked a peek at how his sleeves caught on the rise of his bicep and the plane of his underarm. Small scars litter his skin, like little nicks, some longer than others. Hot arousal curled in the pit of my stomach and hurriedly bent to load the dishes in the dishwasher. Getting a boner was not that great of an idea right now.

“What are your plans?”

“My plans?”

“For today,” Levi accentuated. His gaze turned sharp. “Are you going back home?”

I swallowed hard, and straightened. I was stiller taller than Levi, even with him sitting at the bar, but I felt small. Useless, weak, meager. Desperate.

“No,” I whispered. Not today and maybe not the next day. Maybe I’d never go back. Maybe I’d move in Levi and in return I’d work at the bar for free. I could get better at cooking eggs.

“Good,” Levi grunted. He stood and rolled his shoulders until they popped. “I’ll be in my office for most of the day but if you need me just knock.”

“Okay.”

“The remote should be around here somewhere.”

“I’ll find it.”

“Don’t fuck up my living room. I like how it looks.”

“I won’t.”

Levi dragged his eyes from me to the ceiling, head tilted back. He let out a huff from his nose and then turned on his heel and was gone before I could get another word out.

It wasn’t hard to find the remote at all but I found myself drifting. I hardly ever watched TV since my dad tended to thrive off of it, but in the small snatches I got I enjoyed it. Movie days at school were my favorite since it meant not having to read or work.

Instead I thought about Levi. What was his story? The small scars, the tattoo he wouldn’t talk about, the strangely tuned looks. They were all tells of something, but I just didn’t know what. Was he trying to butter me up in exchange for something? Pull a double at work? An all nighter? I didn’t get it.

Maybe he had come from an abusive home too. That was a strange image. Levi exuded confidence and a solid deadliness. He was short, yeah, and kind of cranky, but I would never want to get on his bad side. A crime boss? That didn’t seem so far fetched.

I groaned and ran a hand over my eyes, pressing deep against the shadows. I needed to chill out or something. Here I had a day off and I was worrying myself into a fit.

I tried to focus in on the TV again but this time the small bookshelf against the far wall caught my attention. It was stuffed with thick tome-like books and smaller, worn paperbacks. To my surprise, none of them looked like they were for show. My mom had kept a few larger books around the house for decoration, but these books looked well-loved and one wrong turn of a page from falling apart.

Out of curiosity, I shuffled over and tilted my head to read the spines.

Small words were easier to read, like titles or names or simple commands. These books seemed like old classics or foreign stories, but neither one of them appeared to be getting more attention than the other. Every single book was equal when it came to their condition. Pages yellowed and softened, spines hanging on by threads, and the cover faded.

I tried to imagine what it would be like to read such a huge book. To comprehend, retain, understand. And to do the same thing in other languages. Levi must really be smart.

Or maybe he was average and I was just really fucking dumb.

I opted for the first option.

I picked a random book and opened it up. The print was small and ran on with no pictures whatsoever. I couldn’t help my flinch and hastily put it back. No thank you. 

Watching TV managed to help pass the time until Levi came back out. He was dressed a little nicer, but still casual. Dark sweatpants and a white henley that showed off the swell of his chest and the cut of his shoulders. I forced myself to keep my eyes on the screen instead of eyeing him.

Cabinets opened and closed. The fridge opened and then shut. Clanking.

“Oi, brat.”

“Yes?” I let myself look at him and hoped my darker skin could hide my flush. That shirt really did look good on him.

He held up a bowl, one eyebrow quirked. “You want lunch?”

I nodded and he went back to clanking around. I turned up the TV to hear over the noise and hoped I wasn’t obviously checking him out. Or sporting a chub.

Levi ordered me to sit at the bar when lunch was ready. It was a simple rice dish with some chicken tossed in, sauce on the side.

I ate two bowls until I called it quits. Levi handed me his dishes without another word and the routine started all over again.

I could get used to this. Cleaning, cooking, and chilling out. Feeling clean. Not being scared. Going back to my home was probably going to be the hardest thing to do after sleeping at a place like this. Or maybe it wasn’t the place. Maybe it was just Levi.

“I’m going back to work. There’s ice cream in the freezer, but I swear to God, Eren, if you eat it all I’m going to fucking kill you.”

I grinned. Yeah, it was definitely Levi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!  
> sorry this was a little late, school got in the way!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: fighting, abuse, severe anger issues, a boner happens, and disassociation  
> i was going to hold out on posting this chapter, but yolo

I didn’t go home until Sunday afternoon.

I lounged around Levi’s house which mostly consisted of watching TV and sharing meals with the recluse himself. I found that Levi’s social life seemed to consist of solely those who worked with him at the bar because not once did his phone ring or visitor stop by. There was also the lack of pictures. I tried to snoop when he left to check up at the bar, but I didn’t venture farther than any closed doors. So I basically just walked up and down the hallway and looked through all of the drawers in the living room.

I even tried to read a decently sized book but I gave up a few lines in. Something just wasn’t connecting in my brain. The words were there and I knew what the words meant, but they jumbled up when I tried make sense of them.

I worked Sunday morning and Hanji brought it upon themself to bother me on exactly why Levi and I showed up in the same car.

“So,” they had drawled, “did you and Levi bone?”

“ _What?_ ” I had choked, fumbling with a dish and barely managing to save it before it shattered against the bottom of the sink basin.

“Y’know, do the _do_. Horizontal tango. The Dirty Deed-”

“Oh my God,” I had groaned. “Oh my God, no. He just gave me a ride.”

“ _Oh!_ ” Hanji had crowed, loud enough that something clattered in the kitchen. They had slapped my back hard and gave me another shark-like grin. “I _bet_ he did.”

“Hanji!” I snapped. I could feel my face burning.

“Okay, okay, but just so you know, I’m on to you two. I’ve got eyes like a hawk.” To emphasize their point, they yanked off their thick-rimmed glasses and wiggled their eyebrows. And then promptly frowned. “Okay, maybe not a hawk, more like a mole? Did you know moles have-”

I had let their babble wash over me, relieved that the topic had at least switched to something that wouldn’t make me want to hide away forever.

Levi had offered me another ride home after my shifted ended, but I quickly declined before Hanji could get anymore ideas. He had shrugged and closed himself back up in his office before I could thank him again.

The walk home was spent in mortification which melded into dread. I could only hope my dad wasn’t home or was passed out at mid-afternoon. Not unlikely. He had done it before.

My house seemed much more desolate compared to Levi’s. The chipping paint curled jaggedly, the shutters crooked and hanging on by a few nails. The porch creaked underneath my feet and I couldn’t help by think of how nicely Levi’s floor had been.

Shaking any thoughts from my head, I shouldered the door open and held my breath.

My dad sat in his reclining chair, eyes glued to the TV screen. He didn’t even glance up once I stepped over the threshold.

I waited for a sign of recognition or the flip of a switch, but nothing came. He just kept watching TV. Slowly, I rounded behind him and hurried down the hall to my room. It was exactly how I had left it aside from the belongings I had stashed in the forest. I would have to go retrieve them before it got too dark or my dad changed is mind on whether or not he wanted to beat the shit out of me. 

Huffing, I dropped onto my mattress and stared up at the ceiling.

Levi’s couch had been way more comfortable. I missed the softness of the blanket he lent me and the comforting hum of the TV. The shared meals and his eye rolls. The slope of his shoulders and thickness of his neck. His sharp jaw and the barest hint of stubble I saw Sunday morning during breakfast.

Heat coiled tightly in my stomach and I shifted, flushing. He was an attractive man - that was given. I was just recognzing that fact, but it still didn’t explain the stuttering of my heart when I thought about what his stubble would feel like under my lips.

Groaning, I rolled over onto my stomach. The hardness in my pants shifted awkwardly and throbbed against my leg. This wasn’t right. Levi was just being kind - who wouldn’t after finding out their younger coworker was getting the shit kicked out him by his dear old dad? Getting hard over him felt like a betrayal of some sorts. Like I was taking advantage of his generosity, despite him not even being present.

I willed myself to calm down, but once that didn’t work, I pushed myself up and hurried to the back door. I hopped over the mess that was the back steps and climbed over the back fence. I walked the well-worn path through the woods to my little sanctuary. The coldness of the air bit at my exposed arms and face, but it was a price I was willing to pay since my erection softened. God, I was fucked up.

I skirted the top of the drainage pipe and dropped myself down into the gutter where I had shoved my blankets and bag.

My heart stopped.

They weren’t there.

Swallowing hard, I shifted deeper inside. Gone. They were gone. All of my schoolwork and books - gone.

I scrambled out and started the search nearby, in bushes and behind trees and little ravines but nothing. The sun had dipped dangerously low by the time I managed to catch my breath and sink to the ground.

They were all gone. I put my head in my hands. How much would the books cost? I had never lost one before, but they couldn’t be cheap to replace.

I wasn’t strong enough to push the swell of tears that burned hotly at my eyes. I let a few fall despite how it chilled my cheeks and then scrubbed at my face, hard. No, I wasn’t going to cry over something like this. I was going to pick up extra shifts - even skip another day of school if I had to. I would be fine. And even if I wasn’t, I had to be.

The sun was gone by the time I got back home. The only light on in the house came from the TV.

“Where were you?”

I jumped hard, just noticing the tall shadow at the end of the hallway.

“In the woods,” I replied, hoping my voice didn’t shake too much.

My dad stepped closer and only seemed to grow taller. “No you weren’t.”

“I just got back-”

“I said,” my dad towered over me, his long hair a tangled mess around his face, “where were you? I looked in the woods and you weren’t there. Are you lying to me?”

Cold dread bit into my diaphragm and my lungs choked. I tried to find words - explain that I had stayed at friend’s house, but my dad wasn’t dumb. He used to be a doctor, and a damn good one at that. He could put two and two together. Levi wasn’t safe if I told the truth. So I kept my mouth shut.

I knew the fist was coming before I even had a chance to close my eyes.

Hot pain laced across my cheek, overlapping the still-yellowing skin and I went down, hard. The wall jarred my shoulder and I tried to find some traction to keep standing, but my dad’s knuckles made sure I didn’t.

It was the same rundown as always. A good few punches and kicks, all like lead against my body, and then heavy breathing.

I let my eyes close and opted that right now the hallway carpet was a lot more comfortable than my mattress.

\---

I woke up the next morning to a throbbing pain. Fuck.

Today was going to suck shit.

\---

It did. It sucked major shit.

I ignored everyone’s searching glances and kept my head down as best I could. I had risked a look in the mirror before I left and it was just as bad as it felt. My eye was swollen closed among a web work of dark blues and purples. A split lip and another bruise smeared on my jaw that traveled up into my hairline. It oddly resembled the shape of a boot which meant I had gotten kicked in the face. But I couldn’t remember getting stomped. Maybe it was for the best.

My side ached and twinged with each step but that was easier to hide underneath a sweater and a slouch. Or at least I thought it was hiding it. Fuck if I knew anymore.

I dropped down in my seat. Reiner and Jean weren’t here yet, but it wasn’t like I was going to acknowledge them if they were. I just felt like going to sleep. Preferably on Levi’s couch. Maybe I could see if I could catch nap in his office before the bar got too busy. I didn’t work tonight, but I needed extra hours.

The class started to fill in and I kept my eyes trained on my desk. A textbook had to range in the hundreds area. And I had four textbooks overall, so that meant four hundred, minimum at most. I had nearly a thousand saved up, hidden away in the fabric of my mattress. Thank God I had taken it out of my bag. My cigarettes weren’t so lucky.

“Eren, my man!” came Reiner’s booming voice.

I winced and just nodded my head in acknowledgment, not lifting my eyes. It’s not like we were really friends, right? Just acquantices.

“Aw, does the little boy not feel too good today?”

I bit down on my tongue to keep from snapping at Jean’s condescending voice.

“Lay off him, man,” Reiner retorted and the desk creaked behind me as he sat down. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see Jean’s long legs. His shoes looked new. “You feeling alright?”

I just nodded and willed the bell to ring sooner so their attention diverted elsewhere. The sharpness of something hitting my cheek, however, startled me into snapping my head up and looking at Jean.

He was slouching in his chair, rubberband in hand and smirk on his lips. Once he saw my face however, he froze.

“Shit,” Reiner breathed, “Eren, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I snapped, patience gone. I just wanted it to be over with. I was tired of this. I faced the front and clenched my fists until my fingernails dug into my palms.

“Dude, your eye is fucked up. You should probably get that checked out.” Surprisingly, it was Jean speaking, and I side-eyed him. Well, as best as I could with one eye.

He was obviously trying to play off his shock as indifference but there was a sharpness of his gaze as he stared at me. It just made me angrier. I turned to face him fully and he leaned back, eyes roving fully over my face.

“Meet me behind your Tahoe after school.” I could be late to work for once.

I ignored Jean’s startled look as the bell rang.

Just this once.

\---

“I don’t have time to fight you,” was the first thing Jean said as he opened up the passenger door and tossed his bag inside.

“Tough shit,” I snapped back and crossed the distance between us to fist my hands in his collar. Fighting probably wasn’t a good idea, especially with only one eye and the prospect of a full shift ahead, but I didn’t care. I needed someone’s hands who weren’t my dad’s on me. I needed Jean to knock the fuck out of me until my head sat on my shoulders straight again.

Jean, surprsingly, let himself be backed up against the side of the car. His jaw was clenched tight and he glared at something just above me. Holding himself back.

I didn’t need that right now.

Without wasting anymore time, I reeled a fist back and planted it into Jean’s gut. His breath whooshed out in a deep _oof_ , and then we were fighting. The gravel dug into my back as Jean grappled me on the ground, and my side smarted terribly, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care anymore.

I managed to wiggle myself on top and landed a few more hits, off centered, and then Jean’s bony knees thumped me hard enough in the back to send me sprawling. I barely managed suck in a breath before Jean was on me again.

My mouth filled up with blood and my other eye was going to be blacker, but it was worth it. I didn’t think about my dad or the missing books or Levi. All that filled my mind was a numbing pain.

The fight leeched out of us slowly and left us heaving. Jean staggered up onto his feet and with grim satisfaction, I could see the blood dripping from his nose and the darkening of a bruise across his cheek. But he wasn’t gloating. Instead he looked almost - ashamed. Regretful.

It hurt to stand but I did it anyways. God, working was going to be a bitch.

There wasn’t anything left to say or do, so I turned to leave but a hand caught my wrist.

“Eren,” Jean said, voice ragged. “come on, man, at least get cleaned up or something.”

I must’ve really looked like shit. I yanked my hand out of his grasp.

“Fuck off.”

Jean screwed his eyes closed and worked his jaw for a few moments before sighing deeply. “Whatever.”

That was my cue to leave. I didn’t look back.

\---

Once Hanji caught sight of me, they reeled back, eyebrows furrowed. “Eren? Oh God, your eye-”

I dodged their reaching hands. After a moment, Hanji slowly lowered their outstretched arms. “Where’s Levi?”

“He’s out right now. Eren, you should really-”

“Can I pick up an extra shift?”

“Eren-”

“Can I or can I not?”

Hanji’s jaw set, contemplating. Then shook their head. “No, Eren.”

Anger tinged with shame boiled through me and I turned on my heel sharply, back through the door and onto the road, ignoring Hanji’s calls. I tried to do the breathing exercises, but they were useless. I tried to clench my teeth until they groaned, but it did nothing.

I barely made it halfway home before I broke.

A red tinged veil lowered over my eyes and I turned on the nearest object. I felt my hands connecting, the jarring pain of hitting something harder than flesh, but it was at a distance. My anger was like crashing waves, stronger and stronger each time it reared back.

By the time I dropped to my knees, exhausted, my hands were bloodied and swollen and something other than blood ran down my face.

I hated this. I hated all of this.

A mauled mailbox lay in a heap in front of me. It wasn’t anything fancy. Just a little cleaner and sat at the end of a longer driveway. I couldn’t even see the house through the thicket of the trees. But I saw something even worse.

“Well, that’s a first.”

I was dead. I was so fucking dead.

A man stood in the middle of the driveway dressed in a sharp suit. He was tall with broad shoulders and a strong chest. His blonde hair was combed to the side and melded into his undercut. Just like Levi.

“Don’t teenagers usually destroy mailboxes with bats instead of their own two fists?” The man asked casually. He took a few steps closer and peered down at the mess. “Doesn’t seem like I got any mail though.”

“I’ll pay for it,” I whispered, voice rough. I couldn’t. I wouldn't have enough. How much were mailboxes anyways? It didn’t matter. There goes my hope for a car or a place to call my own.

The man tilted his head and regarded me with eerily sharp blue eyes. His eyes traced my face and then slid over my frame before resting on my shoes. I wanted to tuck them up under me.

“I don’t think that’s necessary. I hated that mailbox anyways. You, on the other hand, look like you’ve gone through the ringer.”

I didn’t know what to say so I kept my mouth shut. The man didn’t seem to mind.

“I have medical supplies in my house if you’d like me to treat you. Free of charge.”

I shook my head. The man frowned.

“It’s nothing to be prideful about-”

A loud ringing cut him off and he sighed. Without taking his eyes off of me, he pulled out a sleek phone and pressed it to his ear. “Yes, Levi?”

Levi.

I was running. It jarred my bruises and wounds but I didn’t care. Levi couldn’t see me like that. Not broken, on my last thread. Not with the evidence of what I could do so plainly laid out.

I ran all the way home and through the front door. The lumpiness of my mattress was a relief to my aching body and I let myself curl up in a tight ball.

I hated this. Everything was fucked up. No, not everything. It was me. It was all me.

\---

I skipped the school the next day. I laid in bed and drifted in and out of sleep. I had to work in the afternoon but I was even contemplating not doing that. But I had to Maybe I could go find another job, but the likelihood of not having to read was slim to none. I would just have to suck it up.

Too soon I had to get dressed, slowly, and head out. It was getting colder and I would have to get a thicker jacket. I needed too much but had too little. Stretched too thin.

My hands were swollen with blackening bruises, the knuckles raw and ugly. I tried to flex them but the pain was so sharp tears pricked my eyes.

_Fuck._

The destroyed mailbox had been replaced by another one and I kept my head down as I passed it. Next week I would go knock on that guy’s door and pay him back, but not today. Just not today.

Hanji was at the bar counter per usual, smiling and nodding at customer but looked up as I entered. I hurried past before they could stop me. Mike was at work in the kitchen and shot me a look I couldn’t decipher but I didn’t wait around.

I was just going to wash dishes. Simple. Alone. 

I didn’t even get my hands around a single plate before a familiar voice piped up behind me.

“You look like shit.”

_One, two, three. Inhale. One, two, three. Exhale._

“Yeah,” I lamely replied, not turning around.

“Did the mailbox do that to you or do you just have really shitty luck?”

I was too drained to laugh at Levi’s humor. Too drained to do much of anything really, except wash dishes. So that’s what I started to do. A hand landed on my shoulder and curled lightly.

“Follow me.”

“I have to wash dishes, sir.”

“I think it’s safe to say they’re not going anywhere.”

I screwed my eyes close and struggled to keep my frustration at bay. Levi wasn’t doing anything wrong, far from it, but I just felt _angry_.

“I don’t want to get behind.”

“Eren, for _fuck’s_ sake, stop worrying about some plates. You should be more concerned the skin hanging off your hands. At this rate, they’re going to go before the rest of you.”

Stretched too thin. Pulled too tight. Like a rubber band at it’s highest tension, I snapped. I reared my hand back and let it slam against the hard metal of the sink. Who cares if they went ahead of me? The rest of me wasn't too far behind. 

“Eren, the fuck-” Levi snarled, scrabbling to pin my hand down but I managed to shake him off for a moment. I got two more cracks in before he managed to restrain me.

And then, even worst, I started to cry.

Levi let me, his arms still around me, biceps strong enough to trap my arms to my body. He let me sob and sag against him at a dishwashing station during a normal afternoon. Pathetic. 

“Eren,” he murmured. I could feel the vibration of his voice through my back. “We need to look at your hands and your eyes. Okay?”

I nodded. Levi steered me to his office, but it felt like a blur.

I just wanted it all stop.

He sat me down in a chair and pulled out the med kit from before. He held my hands with a surprising tenderness and started to dab at the knuckles with antiseptic. The burn felt like a pinch. Once he deemed them clean enough, he skillfully wrapped them with gauze. He inspected my eyes, cool fingers on my heated cheeks, but there wasn’t much he could do aside from fetch me an ice pack. I swallowed the painkillers he offered dry.

Silence settled over us for a long moment before he sighed, low and long, and perched himself on the edge of his desk.

“You’re going to stay at my house tonight. Do you need to get anything from your house?”

Everything was gone. I shook my head. 

“Then come on, let’s go. You can't work like this.”

I let him direct me to his car through the back door. Instead of waiting for him, I went ahead and curled up in the passenger seat.

I had fucked up. Bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! please let me know if there are any mistakes!  
> i hope i was able to accurately portray Eren's disassociation by the format and context, but if not, again, please let me know!   
> catch ur boy on [tumblr](http://sevenyearsdead.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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